Intentions
by EE's Skysong
Summary: Utterly and blatantly Longerbee. One hundred drabbles on one hundred themes that form a kindasorta story. Ch. 8: Around him, there was a hole inside that she never noticed anymore, not until he filled it. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: "I don't need a friend who makes fun of me." "Well, I'll be a friend that supports you, then." "You can start by helping me kill those two."

(An: Well, I stumbled upon one of those hundred themes lists… since I was just getting into Longerbee, I decided what the hey! 100 Longerbee drabbles (and by drabbles, I mean -exactly- 100 words each time) couldn't be that hard. I believe it's taken me a month to write this… good Lord. However, when I got to twenty, I found a story forming. This isn't exactly coherent, and some of it might be repetitive… but it's hard writing about one couple for that long. This is one of those stories in which I use pronouns to refer to the main characters only... their names only show up once. So if there's a "he", it's probably Longshot, even though Jet makes quite a few cameos. Please tell me if anything comes off as too confusing, though. -sweatdrop-)

11: Memory

She made a strong impression right from the start.

The girl's story was far too familiar- village burned, world shattered. The livid scars on her cheeks made his fingers twitch to his bandages; the old marks beneath them still ached whenever rain approached.

But the defiance in her large eyes was much different. She didn't blindly accept change, she fought it. She hadn't let it break her like he had. Instead of losing her voice, she made sure everyone who hurt her heard it.

She still seemed relieved, however, when she found out that she didn't have to fight him.

15: Silence

It was really kind of soothing, she thought, that he didn't speak. He couldn't utter false condolences, couldn't fake sympathy, couldn't make some stupid crack. He was just there, quietly waiting for her to calm.

So she didn't speak either, didn't try to explain; she just let him rub salve on the burns on her cheeks and tried not to cry. While he didn't seem to be able to smile, his hands were kind, and his eyes were warm. She wanted to thank him, but she wasn't sure why, and she didn't wish to shatter the tentative bond between them.

1: Introductions

Jet plucked a hayseed and stuck it in his mouth, pointing at the boy beside him. "This is Longshot. You are...?"

The girl glared at them and looked away. "It doesn't matter now."

"I figured you'd say that. How about… Smellerbee?" Longshot looked at him, clearly weirded out. "What? It's the scars and the nose."

The girl covered her nose, looking offended. "I _earned_ these scars," she snapped.

Jet nodded. "I know."

Smellerbee crossed her arms. "Quit staring at me like that," she said, scowling at Longshot. "Do I _look_ like I want your approval?" He shook his head, unbothered.

68: Hero

He had never wanted to be anyone's hero. He had simply wanted to live his life, to try and rebuild himself from the ashes of his past. He would have been afraid if he could inspire awe.

But nevertheless, he felt jealous when he saw the way she looked at Jet, the way her eyes shone, the way she focused only on him. Everyone did that, even himself; it was impossible to not be ensnared by Jet's spell. He was a great leader, a born chevalier.

Was it wrong to wish she would look at him like that, just once?

53: Keeping a Secret

The others didn't know she was a girl. While wandering through the ruins of her village, she found the chestplate that later became her signature. She put it on and tied her hair back with a ragged blue bandana, taking the first steps to becoming Smellerbee.

He looked at her curiously. She avoided his eyes, studying the ground instead. "They'll think I'm weak, even if I've got the marks to prove I'm not. Being a boy is easier." She adjusted her collar. "Besides, I know you won't tell." Her small smile attempted wryness, but her voice was bare and humorless.

76: Broken Pieces

When she snuck off to be alone, she hadn't intended to cry. She just wanted to gather up the pieces of her old life and look at them one last time in the moonlight. Her tears were stupid. She had hated her life. It wasn't worth crying over… but it still hurt. "What do you want?" she demanded when the archer joined her. He just shrugged and met her eyes, as if to murmur, _No one should have to cry alone. _She accepted his presence and didn't try to stop the tears; there was nothing she could do about either.

88: Pain

It was nothing new for her, the pain. She supposed it wasn't for him either. At least, she didn't think so, judging by the scars on his arms. She watched him in silence as he undid his bandages and replaced them with clean ones, all without looking at her. His scars were worse- she couldn't hide hers, but his had marked him in more ways than one. Her tears were even more foolish considering how stoic he was being about his pain. "So it stops hurting after a while?" she murmured as he knotted off the last bandage. He nodded.

46: Family

She had never had a family, not one that had mattered, anyway. Her parents' only thought had been to marry her off to the first person they could; they had never truly cared for her because she wouldn't fetch a high dowry. Not like her sister's, anyway. But her sister had been taken away, carted off by the soldiers because of the very thing that made her parents adore her.

She wasn't proud of her plainness, and it hadn't been that which saved her; she ran.

But now she had a proper one, and she wasn't going to betray them.

72: Mischief Managed

She was crafty. She came up with twisted plans to mess with the soldiers' heads, from wailing at night to make them think their camp was haunted, to painting her initials all over the sleeping general's face. Once, when they were getting close to the treehouses, she dressed as the moon spirit. She waltzed into camp and just _stared_ at the captain until he freaked and ran off, his soldiers in hot pursuit.

As they began to loot the camp, Smellerbee changed back into her normal clothes, smirking. She'd never admit it, but this was more fun than fighting them.

57: Sacrifice

For her new life, she'd given up her parents, her sister, and her friends. Considering, it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. She had left a life where she had to fight to be accepted for one where everyone took her as she was, whether they were aware of her gender or not, where being noticed was something she could always take for granted, where appreciation was something that she had to earn but wasn't that hard to get.

And she would have given up a thousand of her old lives to be with him for just one.

61: Fairy Tale

Life in the treetops was no fairy tale, and Jet was no Robin Hood. They had to work hard to support themselves; one good raid of a Fire Nation camp could keep them supplied for months, but they were lucky if they raided camps more than twice a year. And she had to admit, Jet got a little scary when he talked about the Fire Nation; there was a fire in his eyes when he did. Fire could inspire, but it could also burn homes and cities.

And things with her "prince" were certainly never simple. To her, at least.

20: Fortitude

They admired each other, although neither ever noticed. She envied his stolidity, his ability to keep himself under control. Her complete lack of modesty amazed him; she had no use for it, as brutally honest as she was. And they both respected each other's bravery. They both posessed unshakable willingness to fight for what they believed in and for what they loved.

They weren't friends, though, not for a long time. She thought his silence was rudeness; he thought her inability to keep her mouth shut was annoying. Later, though, they would both decide they were really each other's strengths.

(Thankfully, most of this is coherent… the third or fourth chapter has a lot of random ones that I couldn't figure out what to do with. Review!)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: "It's plain to see It's trying to speak Cherished dreams Forever asleep Hopelessly I'll love you endlessly"

(An: I like this chapter. It was fun to write so much Longshot's POV. Oh, by the way, Jesus.Lives pointed out something- if I was talking about Jet, and then I start a new paragraph with "he", it refers to Longshot. Just an FYI.)

81: Pen and Paper

He wrote a lot, mainly because he knew no one but Jet could read it- comebacks to the Duke's insults, sharp, sarcastic replies to, "Can't you talk?", everything he had to keep inside his head. When she joined the group, a subtle change crept into his writing.

At first, it was just idle speculation. What was the name she had spurned? What had her family been like? What was she trying to prove?

It took him a while to notice that all of it eventually became about her. He couldn't identify when it had happened, either, but did it matter?

23: Cat

He had had a kitten when he was younger, and it was amazing how often she reminded him of it. She was graceful even when she was clumsy; she would get up, brush herself off, and stroll away as if that had been her intention. She scorned any offer of help, preferring to make her own way, but she would still come seeking his approval with a kind of desperate nonchalance in her eyes. And he would invariably give it; there was little she could do wrong in his eyes. Pathetic, but he knew she cared, not like with cats.

48: Childhood

At first glance, she didn't seem like a child. She was fierce, her anger wild and uncontrollable, but she was also careful to be fair. While she was impulsive, she was also quick to admit when she had wronged someone, and she could always be trusted to be impartial (except when it came to the Fire Nation).

It took further observation to notice the way she would nibble her thumbnail when nervous or impatient, or that her idea of improving her aim was throwing leechi nuts at Pipsqueak. And she did let her rage rule sometimes.

He was _very_ observant.

99: Solitude

He had always been solitary. Silence made better company than most of the other Freedom Fighters; he liked them all well enough, he supposed, but they didn't understand him at all. He kept his own counsel and answered only to Jet, and he liked it that way, dammit.

And then, like the writing, she crept into his time alone; if he wasn't actually with her, he was thinking of her, trying to figure her out. When he caught himself, he would wonder what on earth had happened to him. And then he'd shrug, figuring it'd pass, but it never did.

45: Illusion

His facades were just facades; his strong walls were only illusions. For how could he truly be strong if she could always make him feel weak, to want to lay down his bow and stop fighting for his honor? She broke down his barriers one by one.

So he hid, even though he had an odd, desperate need to be by her. He avoided her as much as possible. It wasn't hard, not in their size of world. She had the lightest footsteps in the camp, but he had excellent hearing. Even though it made her angry, he hid.

97: Safety First

She was annoyed when she realized he was avoiding her. This was the boy who had followed her when she left to cry, after all. Where was his cursed understanding now? When she told Jet about it, he'd laughed softly and shook his head. "That's Longshot for you. He's not the cuddly sort. He'll snub you for ages now so you won't think he's soft."

Put that way, his avoidance actually seemed rather rational. She made a face at Jet's back. She had gone to him to vent, not to empathize with the damn boy. And he was _still_ annoying.

69: Annoyance

He probably thought her name suited her. He had to find her annoying and bothersome, like a bee. Why else would he avoid her like she was deadly contagious? Every time she walked into a room, he walked out. He fought by her side, and he seemed to respect her opinions. He just didn't _like_ her. That was the _really_ annoying thing- his fairness. It was hard to be angry with someone who saw every side to the question. But she managed it; she always had a scowl for him. But she was also always the first to defend him.

63: Do Not Disturb

It was her secret. She deserved to be able to keep it; it was her choice, and he respected that. Her privacy and honor didn't seem to matter much to her, but they did to him.

So anyone who followed her when she slipped off to bathe was warned away. An arrow would land by their feet or whiz past their heads, and they would know to turn back. She never knew he did this, and he never tried to tell her. The idea that he could be of help was reward enough, and she probably wouldn't appreciate it anyway.

41: Teamwork

They made a great team. He was terrible at hand-to-hand; she was awful at long distance. Even though they weren't friends, they couldn't challenge that. So she rolled her eyes, and his scowl deepened, but they went along with it whenever Jet put them together on watch or scavenging or scouting.

They just didn't know each other, that was all, and both of them were too guarded to bother to try and make friends. Their friendship happened gradually, with them fighting it all the way. They both felt quite foolish when they found out how much they liked each other.

28: Sorrow

Jet knew what it was like, to have your home destroyed, but he turned into fuel for fighting.

He fought only to reclaim his lost honor, not for revenge. His memories inspired no hatred, only regret that he had been too young to stop it from happening.

He was so sure of himself all the time. She could fake it, certainly, but she envied his ability to _be_ it. He could walk with his head held high because he knew who he was and what he was good at. Her? She was just a short, gender-confused girl who had a bit of a hand with knives. _He_ was a tower. He could stand alone, never felt the need to explain himself. He wasn't just some kid tagging after Jet, he was a respected warrior in his own right. So why was he always so skittish around her?

40: Rated

She was _terrible_ with the short bow. It was true, and nothing could deny it. He was just terrified of telling her. Girls were scary anyway, _and_ she had a horrible temper. He admired her bravery, but it also made her horribly intimidating. Nothing scared him, but… well, she came pretty close.

And anyway, it was hard to be anything but blunt when you couldn't speak.

So he took the bow from her hands and gave it a reassuring pat. Her lips twitched, but he didn't notice; any hint of amusement disappeared when he struck the center of the target.

70: 67

To her surprise, he scowled and walked over to the target, pulling out the arrow as though it offended him. "What was the matter with that?" she asked, crossing her arms. "It was way better than my shot."

He shook his head, still looking displeased with himself. _I can do better,_ he seemed to say. He gestured for her to come closer and pointed at the mark he'd left in the wood. It was less than an inch away from the perfect center, but it was enough to bug him. He tapped it. _That far off means life or death._

(For the record, the only thing I want to know is why 67 isn't actually number sixty-seven… it's weird. Review!)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: "He's upset because you confuse him. He can't just put you in a little box and tuck you away."

(An: This wasn't posted yesterday because I was out of town; that was also why I missed the initial showing of "Lake Laogai". Here's to hoping that's not the last we'll see of our favorite pair!)

36: Precious Treasure

The bow was his most precious posession; he oiled the string constantly, and the ash never went unpolished. He mourned it like an old friend after using it as a shield and having it reduced to splinters.

She was unimpressed by his sadness. "It's just a hunk of wood. Get over it."

He looked at her, his brown eyes mournful:_ But it was part of who I am._ He reached over and traced the stripes on her cheeks without quite touching them. _Like these._

She touched her scars. "Yeah, but I can't get a new face." She walked off, scowling.

49: Stripes

He wanted to make up for his carelessness. The hurt frown that changed into a fiery glare bothered him. He wanted to amend for it, but how? She'd never accept his help; it would only make her angrier at him.

He'd have to be straightforward, that was all, just like her. So he managed to catch her alone, brooding as she studied the canopy. He tapped her on the shoulder. She looked at him, and her expression became disgusted. He held out the facepaint with a tentative smile. Smellerbee didn't return it, but she dabbed the paint on her scars.

98: Puzzle

She was a puzzle that he didn't have all the pieces to. His inability to sort out his thoughts about her- to put a neat little label on her and write her off- was indescribably irritating. It was also endlessly fascinating. So he observed her from a distance with quiet curiousity. Mostly while she did mundane things, but she made everything she did so uniquely hers that it was never boring. It felt like spying in plain sight, and he often wondered why he did it- she didn't like him, not the least little bit, and it was mutual… right?

4: Dark

No one else seemed to see the depth in his eyes. It was one of the things she noticed when she joined. Most thought him stupid because he didn't talk; she thought he was smart. Why did he have to waste time on words when his gaze said it all?

When she first defended him, she got only a fleeting glance from those dark eyes. The second earned a longer, studious look, and the third, his friendship. She didn't know why she wanted his respect so desperately, but she knew it was worth it when those eyes smiled at her.

14: Smile

He had a nice smile, even if it didn't appear too often. He didn't seem to find anything funny; she had taken one look at him on their first meeting and known any joke would fall flat, which filled her with a weird sense of relief. There was no bullshit with this guy; if you wanted a smile, you had to deserve it. And she did, eventually. The first smile was grudging and cross, but later, he smiled whenever she appeared, which, really, should have clued her in. But she was too busy appreciating how lovely his eyes looked smiling.

19: Gray

Her eyes were gray, but his were a lovely shade of brown; they said a lot about him just with the colors. It was a warm brown, like a blanket, soft and soothing. They could be like stone, though; it took a while to for her to see what they were really like. And when she did, she found it harder and harder to look away.

She never found it odd that she could spend hours contemplating his eyes; they were his voice, after all, but it really should have been more obvious. She felt stupid when she found out.

23: Trouble Lurking

She thought they weren't friends until she noticed how he always protected her. She was a good fighter, but she wasn't overly observant; she would focus on one opponent, and that wasn't always the best strategy. But always, always, anyone who was stupid enough to attack her from behind was struck down from above. When she did, she started to notice _him _for the first time since they'd met- his kindness, his strength, his silence. He was different than she'd thought.

Until she confronted him about it, she didn't realize that he had been trying to protect himself for once.

37: Eyes

He frowned, watching her as she squinted into the distance. "It's bright," she muttered when she noticed. "You're supposed to be looking for Fire Nation." He ignored her, reaching into his pocket and coming out with a small jar of black cream. "What's that?" He continued to pay her no mind and dipped a finger into it. Suddenly, she found herself pressed against a tree as he gently rubbed the cream on her upper and lower eyelids. He was fast, so he had stepped back before she processed it. She looked at the sun again, and she could see. "…Thanks."

47: Creation

It was the start of something, even if she wasn't sure what; him, already looking back over the path they were guarding, and her, utterly nonplussed by his gesture. Now she felt all awkward. The moment had been strangely intimate, _and_ he refused to look at her. "Are we… are we friends now or something?"

He raised and lowered one shoulder, still without looking at her.

She tucked some hair behind her ear, feeling oddly shy. "Do you _want_ to be friends?"

He adjusted his hat to buy himself some time, and then he looked down at her and smiled.

51: Sport

She didn't know how to be friends with him, so she made it into a game. The next time they ambushed a Fire Nation camp, she prodded him and said, "Twelve."

He stared at her for a second, first trying to understand her and then running the battle through his head. Then, with an almost imperceptible smirk, he scratched a number into the dirt with the point of an arrow. _Fifteen._

She made a face and reminded herself to top that number next time. She only managed to beat him once, but that lost its importance somewhere along the line.

74: Are You Challenging Me?

Her game amused him. He was still aloof, though, uncertain how to handle the strange, wild girl he'd befriended. Besides, she'd get cross with him if he acted smug about always beating her. Well, almost always...

She only beat him once, and that was because he was too busy watching her. She just looked so graceful when she fought. All the awkwardness she usually wore as a cloak melted away, and it was just her, caught up in the battle and the sheen of her blades.

Of course, she ruined his memory by never letting him forget she'd beaten him.

56: Danger Ahead

Sometimes her boldness had annoying side effects. Her impatience had led them into a battle more than once, but it was never anything they couldn't handle. It was still annoying, though. She was a wildcat when she fought, all fiery rage and flashing daggers and blood flashing to the ground. She never thought to be practical. It was his fault for encouraging her, though; he always kept other opponents away.

At first she'd reacted crossly, eyeing the fallen foe with barely contained disgust, but when she realized she couldn't talk him out of protecting her, she shrugged and accepted it.

84: Out Cold

_Punch, slash, watch that hilt-!_ He was watching her again and losing focus; he fired absently, and his eyes widened when he saw the soldier's blow had connected. She was out cold. Before the unlucky soldier could strike again, he fell, an arrow in his eye.

He made himself focus, but once the battle was over, he was on the ground in record time. He didn't go to her, but he glanced over several times as he went around collecting his shafts. Jet inspected her and shook his head, muttering, "Lazy."

He only realized how worried he'd been much later.

54: Tower

He became a tower for her, a symbol of strength. Jet was an example for all of them to follow, but he was a personal emblem, the one she wore by her heart to remind her why she fought when things got hard. He was everything she only pretended to be, and she would have been fiercely jealous of anyone else. But with him… He just filled her with a deep sense of peace, like she already was who she wanted to be and could stop fighting. It was weird, but it was also wonderful, and she never questioned it.

(Unless something really odd happens, the rest of the chapters should be up on time...)


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: "Percy wouldn't know a joke if it danced naked in front of him wearing Dobby's tea cozy." 

(An: This is where the semi-coherent part comes in… some of these I had no idea what to do with, so they just got stuck wherever seemed fairly appropriate. Like 22. 22 is weird… Also, this is terrible self-advertisement, but if you liked "Lake Laogai", I might suggest "A Little While". It's not really Longerbee, but it does hint strongly, and I think it's one of my better pieces.)

22: Mother Nature

The nice thing about living in the forest, she thought, was that you always had an excuse to just watch things grow. She loved green things- she was Earth Kingdom through and through. He didn't seem to share her adoration of plants, which was odd, considering how much he was like a tree: strong, solid, but also able to bend, not break, in the wind. She was more like some kind of flower- a dandelion, maybe. Chiefly an annoyance that came and went with the seasons. And certainly not pretty, although that only bothered her when she thought of him.

82: Can You Hear Me?

Jet was the only other who understood him as much as she did. He usually had to pantomime to get his meaning across to the rest of the Freedom Fighters, but she and Jet heard everything they needed to in his eyes. It was refreshing.

And then, as time went by, more and more she missed the mark. But it wasn't anything to be surprised about- how was she to understand him if he didn't understand himself? At least, not around her. He became fumble-fingered, clumsy, confused, and more than ever, her gender was in the forefront of his mind.

18: Rainbow

He was fascinated by simple things; he could clean his bow or fletch arrows for hours without getting bored or straying offtask. Repetition and routine were what he based his life around; he loved being able to control things. He didn't fear change; having mastery over his life just made him feel secure.

In fact, he was quite good at coping with change; it took a very big surprise to even startle a blink out of him. Well, usually, anyway. He wasn't very good at dealing with the way the drops in her hair sparkled and made perfect little rainbows.

3: Light

Daybreak made her uncommonly lovely. It was an odd thing to notice, especially when he was supposed to be watching the path. But there was no unseeing it, and he couldn't make himself look away. She was pretty in a subtle way, he had always known that; something about the tilt of her eyes and the curve of her lips made him wonder how she could be mistaken for a boy. But the glow of the rising sun transformed her, made her someone untouched by the cruelties of life.

He turned away when she smiled; that was too much temptation.

90: Triangle

It was odd, finding yourself in a love triangle that the other two points were oblivious to. Jet wouldn't notice her affections if she danced in front of him wearing nothing but a giant painted heart. His own feelings for her were ignored and neglected day after day. That was fine with him, but it did get rather frustrating. All of his angst was misunderstood. Not that anyone noticed when he was upset; he was always grim. And when she finally started to really pay attention enough to notice, it meant he didn't have to worry about the tangle anymore.

93: Give Up

It went against his nature to give up. He sought perfection in himself, so he had to persist, doing everything as many times as it took to have it match his exacting standards. In a way, he was just as stubborn and muleheaded as she was, and it made him laugh whenever he realized he was acting like her. When he did, she'd look at him like he'd grown an extra head, and he would ignore her. He enjoyed keeping it secret, since she probably wouldn't think it was funny anyway. He was keeping one secret already- what was another?

30: Under the Rain

He didn't glance at her when the rain started to fall, he just put his hat on her head. She looked up at him, confused, but he had already turned away, his ears red. She adjusted the hat, still perplexed; he hated getting wet.

She prodded him to get him to look at her. "Why?" she asked. They hadn't been friends for long; they certainly weren't close enough for such a kind gesture. And he was blushing, too; that didn't make sense, either. He just shrugged, looking uncomfortable, and ducked further under the tree's protection, scowling at the cloudy sky.

96: In the Storm

His scowl deepened as the rain kicked up into a full-blown thunderstorm. Glaring at the clouds as if each one had done him a grave, deeply personal disservice, he leaned against the trunk. "Do you want your hat back?" She scowled at her hesitant tone. He glanced down at her as if to say, Gods, no! And she found herself babbling, "I don't know why you don't like the rain. I love it. Everything's so clean afterward, and it all smells so fresh." He shrugged, wiping a drop off his nose. I just loathe getting wet, his offended posture muttered.

9: Drive

They had an equal sense of duty; it was one of the strongest ties binding them together. She was loyal to Jet because he allowed her freedom she'd never known and gave her the respect she had always craved. He was loyal because he wanted to make up for the time he hadn't been able to fight back.

They tested each other constantly; she would try to sneak up on him, he would try to pin her with a blunted arrow. He was always too alert, and she was always too quick, but they tried anyway. It was their game.

52: Deep in Thought

She cocked her head, watching him as he aimed. The leechi nut went flying, hitting Pipsqueak square in the temples. He leaned against the window, noticing her curious stare. He raised an eyebrow. She picked up another nut, fidgeting with it as she wondered how to explain. "You're so solemn," she said, after a moment. "You'd make choosing china patterns look like you were pondering the mysteries of the universe."

His lips twitched as he plucked the nut from her fingers and fired; they ducked as Pipsqueak turned their way. He shrugged. It's only because I can't do light-hearted grins.

10: Breathe Again

She never questioned why he was always there when she needed him, she simply took it for granted. Anytime she was outmatched in a fight, her assailants would always go down with an arrow in their backs; whenever she was shaken or angered or scared by something, he would let her do what she needed to, whether it was yell or fight or, although she wasn't proud of it, cry. Gentle hands would rub her back until the storm passed. He never let her thank him, either; he would always leave quickly, as though afraid of what he might do.

17: Blood

He was bleeding. Her eyes saw it, and her hands were reaching for something to check the flow, but her brain didn't quite seem to get it. He couldn't be bleeding, couldn't be hurt. He was never injured. He was never bothered. He was the strong one. He couldn't be hurt!

Quietly, he deflected her hands and tied off the wound himself. He touched her cheek, a silent, I'm fine. She made a face at him. If he was allowed to overreact when she got hurt, she could too. She was wounded a lot more than he was, after all.

65: Horror

She felt guilty watching him sleep, even though she only did sporadically.

She had caught him tossing and turning one night in the throes of a nightmare. She hadn't woken him up, just tugged the blanket around him and smoothed the hair from his forehead with an odd lump in her throat. He'd keep her at arm's length again if he found out; he was so touchy about showing weakness.

But she kept an eye on him whenever they were near each other at night. At the very least, she could still keep the horrors in his dreams at bay.

(See? No taut narrative right now. The next chapter is better. Not as spread out, but better. Why -is- it that whenever I say daily updates, FFN says "No .rtf documents for you!" Is it a Soup Nazi or something?)


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: "Just because it is the end of the beginning Doesn't mean it's the beginning of the end"

(An: Most of these are from either the beginning or the end of the list, so I'm very proud of how well they fit together. There's not too much plotty substance here, though… It's a little spread over a lot. -sweatdrop-)

67: Playing the Melody

They were never much for playing the melody. Their job was in the background, the accompaniment. They weren't the focus of the show, but they were important; they were core members of the Freedom Fighters, after all. They chose to be the sideshow because the spotlight didn't suit them. She was pragmatic and practical; a fiery speech from her lips would have scared her. He kept to himself; he didn't want anyone in his way and vice versa. Neither of them were very good at making friends, and why did they need to be important anyway? They had each other.

50: Breaking the Rules

Their life was all about breaking the rules. She trusted Jet absolutely. The laws of the Earth Kingdom didn't apply to them; they were above the law. Everything they did was for a noble cause; they only harmed Fire Nation, and they _deserved_ it.

But now it didn't seem like that was so true anymore. She had nothing else to think about, stuck in the tree, and the more she did, the more Ponytail had a point. She'd never admit it to Jet, but the look on the old man's face bothered her.

Maybe they weren't so right after all.

13: Misfortune

She thought he was stoic, and that amused him. She envied how he could calmly survey a ruined city and set about putting things right. She didn't know that the only reason he could do this was because of one time with far too much horror. He couldn't even really remember it; it was too painful. He just knew that he had ran, and that he had to make up for it. So he helped as much as he could, whether it was a preemptive strike or dealing with the fallout or just listening. It helped with the ever-present guilt.

38: Abandoned

The doll drifted down the river. He watched it, feeling very strange. It was just a little ragdoll, but it was so frail-looking. He shuddered a little as, for a moment, the doll had a different face, _her_ face. It was, after all, just like them; they were both alone, both drifting, both abandoned. He watched from his branch as a little girl ran from the crowd of stunned refugees and grabbed the doll. She cried something and hugged it to her chest like a long-lost family member.

He descended and went to find his own family. This was depressing.

66: Traps

He tried to keep himself serious, since he knew any hint of mirth would have a leechi nut flying at his head. But the dark scowl on her face when he scaled the tree and opened the trap was just too much to bear. The smirk appeared, despite his best efforts to keep it at bay, and a nut struck him squarely between the eyes. He raised an eyebrow and turned to climb down, but she said, "Oh, all right! Just let me out of here, would you?"

She stuck out her tongue as he helped her up beside him.

12: Insanity

What happened to the village was wrong. She knew when as she saw the people looking at their ruined home. Fire Nation or not, she recognized the disbelief on their faces, remembered thinking, "This can't be real," while gazing at undeniable evidence to the contrary.

She had always thought the fire in Jet's eyes was passion, but now she knew it was madness. She looked at him, trapped there, and thought, _The Fire Lord's eyes must look like that._

She hadn't see him for a while, so she left to find him. Facing her leader without him was too hard.

5: Seeking Solace

It's hard when things change. Flooding the town changed everything. Seeing it through the townspeople's eyes made her regret, something she wasn't used to. He seemed worried when she kept to herself afterwards; he refused to leave her side. No matter what she said, he stayed, his gaze mild.

Eventually, she gave up and took refuge in him; he held her close while their world (or at least their view of it) fell apart. She didn't want his help, but he gave it to her anyway, and she had to admit, it was nice to have someone stay the same.

35: Hold My Hand

He was scared too, but she never noticed. He was afraid of speaking back to Jet, afraid of being accused of losing his honor a second time. For it had been his arrow that had brought down the dam, his act the key to the catastrophe. He liked things the way they were; they weren't perfect, but that was life. They were better than they ever had been. He had her around, didn't he?

So he refused to leave her side, was strong for her like always, but he was a little relieved when she took his hand and squeezed.

91: Drowning

She was drowning in them, her fears, her doubts, her questions. She didn't know how to deal; she'd never felt like this before. And then he quietly wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her hair. She almost pushed him away. Before, he had only been sitting beside her, holding her hand, and she could handle that. But then she relaxed and let him hold her because, after all, she could always trust him… why was that?

She blinked as a sudden realization struck her. She started to cry softly; this was one change too many.

26: Tears

Crying made her feel weak, but it was nice to know she had somewhere soft to land. It never failed to amaze her how gentle he was, no matter how many times she realized it. Lacking soothing words to whisper, he would just hold her close. And he would _listen_, which meant more to her than anything.

He never thought the reasons for her tears were odd or unnecessary; even if he didn't understand, he accepted, and she loved that. But then she couldn't tell him the reason for her crying because it was her realization that she loved _him_.

27: Foreign

She cried because it was foreign to her, that was all. She had been eager to accept him as a friend, but it was dangerous to accept him as a lover. It meant she was going _soft_, that all her sharpness- knife, tongue, gaze- meant nothing. It was confusing, the way he made her feel- wonderful but sad. He didn't know it, but she feared change, and it would be hard for her to make this one. But she realized something as she looked into those eyes and felt she could see forever: it would also be a good change.

29: Happiness

She was never at peace with herself unless she was with him. A look of approval could leave her glowing all day, and, unlike anyone else, he never glanced over her. Although her pride would never let her admit it, it was nice that he was always looking out for her. Anyone who attacked her never lived to brag about it; anyone who insulted her earned a fierce glare and his eternal enmity. When he touched her, a warmth blossomed from his fingertips; when he smiled, her heart turned over.

The strangest thing was how pleasant it was, loving him.

95: Advertisement

She knew that she couldn't be blunt about her feelings. She studied him out of the corner of her eye, and she knew that way wouldn't be wise. _It'd scare him away_, she thought. _But doesn't he already-?_ Then he looked down at her, breaking her train of thought. It was weird, looking into his eyes now, and she had to glance away, afraid that her own gaze betrayed her thoughts. His arm tightened around her waist; he thought she was still upset over Jet. _If only he knew. _She pressed her face into his chest to hide her blush.

(So… ridiculously… sappy… eurgh! But at least this is Longerbee, not Kataang. Longerbee needs the fluff. Kataang rots your teeth (and I say this as a supporter).)


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: "I'm a multitasker: I can breathe and annoy you at the same time!"

(An: I go and say that about the fluff while forgetting this chapter is even worse. Plus, it has melodrama. This is the shortest chapter because there was no other good place to cut it off.)

64: Multitasking

She shot him many questioning looks on their journey to Ba Sing Se, but he refused to tell her what was bothering him.

Mostly, it was Jet. He wouldn't leave. He was just blathering on about their fresh start, just in case he hadn't repeated himself _enough_. He'd never get any thinking done, not with Jet refusing to shut up. Jet was being annoying _and_ making an ass of himself at the same time.

But it was also how he loved their time alone, how he loved sitting back-to-back with her in silence, no words needed, how he loved… her.

31: Flowers

He didn't know how to court her. It wasn't like he could whisper sweet nothings in her ear, after all, and she was far too straightforward for most romantic nonsense anyway. But he didn't know how else to make her understand besides actually acting on his feelings. But that would be too forward; having her ignore a gesture was much easier than straight rejection.

He picked a flower absently, lost in his thoughts, and was surprised to find a panda lily in his fingers. Blinking, he realized he had found the way. Really, this was much easier than it seemed.

60: Rejection

Nervously twirling the panda lily in his fingers, he held it out to her. She frowned, cocking her head. He moved to place it in her hair; she stepped back and walked away. He wilted faster than the flower. She didn't need words to tell him she didn't feel the same way, not when she could just do that.

He had never needed anyone's approval before her, so rejection was new- fresh and bright, like a slap in the face. Except that this pain lasted, refused to let him have a moment's peace. She didn't want him, and that _hurt_.

43: Dying

It was like dying, the pain, or at least what dying should feel like; it was sharp and strong. He was never one for melodrama, but this was a special case. He didn't get close, and he certainly didn't love. He had made that mistake this time, and look where it got him.

It was just a stupid panda lily, when all was said and done, and she probably didn't even realize what it had represented to him. And now she was looking at him, confused, and he had to smile so she wouldn't worry, even though he was dying.

58: Kick in the Head

She had been kicked in the head once. It wasn't an experience she wished to repeat. It had been harsh, painful, and left a bruise that throbbed for days.

She hadn't thought much of refusing his panda lily; at the time, she thought only of her allergies acting up. Her eyes watered at the mere idea of wearing it in her hair. But then he kept casting her hurt looks, kept trying to be wherever she wasn't, kept looking away from her.

The realization of what he'd been trying to say was rather like a kick in the head, really.

42: Standing Still

He didn't want to have to wait for her anymore. She was more important than anything to him, but she might not always be. And, of course, there was the whole "war" thing. Either of them could die at any time, they could be captured by the Fire Nation, or they could simply find themselves on diverging paths. They were young, after all; anything could change what they had now, and they would lose their chance. He certainly couldn't go on like this; it was torturous. He loved her, but he couldn't stand still forever. He had to move on.

55: Waiting

It was hard, though. He had waited for her to pick up on it for so long, after all- four years, almost a fourth of his life. And she refused to let him avoid her as he had in the beginning. No, she sought him out, and he couldn't deny her, even though her rejection still stung.

And then, one day, in an oddly perceptive moment, she caught up to him when he was alone. "Panda lilies make me sneeze," she said, toeing the ground. Quickly, as though afraid she couldn't do it slowly, she shoved a moonflower at him.

77: Test

He took the flower, his hand lingering on hers, and looked at her, really _looked_ at her for a long moment. He'd come to love this strange girl-creature, and the way she made up for her accidental rejection seemed to suggest she felt the same about him. Did she?

Well, there was only one way to find out…

Before she could walk away, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed his lips to hers. It was just an experiment, a test to see if she gave a damn or not. And when she accepted, it was all worth it.

73: I Can't

Never mind how fast her heart was beating, never mind how much she liked it, never mind how much she just wanted to crawl into his arms and spend the rest of her life there, those two words still escaped her. "I can't." He just looked at her for a long moment. Were his dark eyes honestly pleading? She'd never seen that before. "It's just- oh, it's just too strange. I mean-" She gave up trying to explain it and just shook her head.

He sighed, resting his forehead against hers. Then he kissed her again, lightly. _I can wait._

85: Spiral

Ok, so there really wasn't anything that complicated about it. Ok, so she knew exactly what she wanted. Ok, so she was scared. But she couldn't help it. She understood now why he'd hid from her before they were friends; it was scary, this feeling that trembled in her chest and made her long for his smile, his touch, his love. He smiled at her and walked away to catch up with Jet; she smiled back, feeling weirdly shy but happy.

Her fears were all right; she was just wondering where this new bend in her life was taking her.

(I firmly agree with Jesus.Lives in the idea that the only thing keeping Smellerbee and Longshot from each other _is_ each other.)


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: "He's our leader. We'll take care of him."

(An: I think this is my favorite chapter… it was just so much fun to write. Plus, it has Iroh's only appearance… even if it is as Mushi.)

78: Drink

The old man, Mushi, looked over their spoils and found a dusty-looking bottle. "Earth Kingdom wine!" he cried, sounding even more excited than at the offer of tea. He picked it up and uncorked it, taking a deep whiff. "Smells like a fine vintage." He poured a glass and offered it to his nephew, who just walked away, shaking his head with his usual sullen scowl. Mushi sighed and looked at Jet, who accepted it, shrugging.

Even though it would undoubtedly make him do something he'd regret, he took a glass as well. Tonight was a night for fresh starts.

86: Seeing Red

She didn't know why the old man's mistake had bothered her so much; after all, it was a common one. It was an image she had actually _tried_ to cultivate, back in the old days when the chestplate had protected her, not hurt her. She had liked being genderless once, but now… now she hated being reminded of how people viewed her. She rubbed her arms, shivering in the salty spray the boat kicked up. He'd only kissed her less than a week ago, so why did she already want so much for him to see her as a woman?

32: Night

The sky was a dark blanket above them; the sea was a quiet roar below. The two ancient spirits, Tui and La, swirled in their endless dance. They were starting over, he reasoned; what better time to let go of his fears and just _do_ for once? It probably had something to do with the wine stolen from the captain, but it was a fine night for such a fine idea.

So when she ducked her head and murmured a contrite apology, he smiled and leaned closer. She seemed confused, and then he kissed her softly, and all was clear.

94: Last Hope

It was reckless. She had already said she didn't want to, but that had been before. It felt like ages since then, even though it was only a few days. It was probably just the wine thinking. But really, when else would he get this chance? They were alone together, and for once he didn't care about the consequences of his affections. This was really his last hope, and if she crushed it, he wasn't sure what he'd do.

But then she kissed back, and the small part of his mind that wasn't wine-soaked and thus thinking about things quieted.

100: Relaxation

He pressed her close, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, wondering what she'd been so afraid of. At the end of the day, it came down to her and him, and that was all she wanted. She had never answered to anyone for her actions before, so why start now? She loved him, and he loved her; it was just that simple. So she kissed him, replacing the chill from the spray with a wonderful warmth.

It was wonderful, letting down her guard, and she chastised herself for not doing it sooner. She could always trust him. Always.

21: Vacation

It was nice to just be able to relax for once; on the ferry, they were all in the same boat, pun or not. They were all trying to find a better life; they were all trying to start over. There was nothing to worry about until they got to the other side; those few days without fighting were the first vacation they'd ever had, and they spent it enjoying each other.

It was why they reacted so fiercely when Jet tried to change things. Fighting the Fire Nation was in their past. Was a break really asking too much?

24: No Time

Their first days in the city made them irritable, although Jet never realized why. Just as he had never realized the reason Katara reacted so fiercely to his betrayal was because of her love, he never noticed theirs. It made them cross because they had little time alone together.

Jet didn't know, and they intended to keep it that way, but it was frustrating. He stayed up late into the night, often staying awake all night. Jet never noticed how close together they slept or the lingering pace they took through alleys so they could have their time by themselves.

39: Dreams

For a long time, their dreams had been different. They respected their differences, but they also confused each other. She thought only of revenge, of making sure no one was hurt the way she was. He dreamed of reclaiming lost honor, of being able to be proud of his reflection. She had never been able to understand why he thought he needed improving; he seemed just fine to her. He never understood why she felt such rage; it was, after all, just a distraction.

But when they came to Ba Sing Se, they finally agreed on what they wanted: peace.

71: Obsession

In their old home, Jet's obsession had been nothing new. Everyone there had been marked, from those who had visible scars to those who woke up screaming in the night, dreaming of fire.

But here in Ba Sing Se, nobody seemed to worry about the war outside their doors. They saw the attack on the outer wall, but that was only because they were still passing through the checkpoint. When she brought it up with a merchant, he blinked, shrugged, and handed her her change.

In the forest, his obsession had kept them alive. Here, it would only cause trouble.

.92: All That I Have

"But aren't you _scared_?" she'd finally demanded.

He'd looked at her, his eyes widening in utter confusion. Then, slowly, as if wondering if she'd hit her head, he shook his head.

She crossed her arms, miffed at the implication that she wasn't thinking straight. "Well, I _am_," she insisted. He seemed surprised at that. "I am! I mean… we owe Jet everything."

He stopped short at that, shaking his head. He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, shaking his head again. _We don't owe him _anything_. He'll say that we do, but all we have is each other._

43: Two Roads

For once, he saw it more simply than she did. There were two roads now: one was Jet's, and one was theirs. He was fine with it, since she was going with him. Their roads would probably end up converging again at some point anyway, and he put his arm around her thin shoulders and tried to reassure her of this. He knew she was scared; they owed everything to Jet, and their destinies were knots tangled around Jet's straight cord. But now they owed more to each other, to the new life they were trying to adopt, to themselves.

6: Break Away

They discussed it a lot, even if they rarely actually spoke. She would turn to him and meet his eyes, and he would nod. She knew it was the right thing to do, but it was difficult. Jet had always led them, and now they would have to find their own way. She was young, and this was frightening. But he wasn't much older, and he was sure, so things would be all right. He was always sure.

Jet didn't react well, as they expected. But they had followed him blindly for too long. Things had to be different here.

89: Through the Fire

He was pleased with how things had turned out. They weren't wonderful, but the two of them had passed many tests and instead of shattering, they had been tempered and were stronger for it. The rage in her heart had cooled. She still wished revenge, but she was willing to put her head before her heart in all things save one, and that went doubly for him. And himself, he knew he was different. At last, he was satisfied with who he was, with the way things were. Both of them had walked through the fire and come out smiling.

(I do love writing about the separation from Jet…character development is so much fun.)


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: "And when they use our atoms to make new lives, they'll have to take two, one of me and one of you, we'll be bound together so tight…"

(An: Well, this is the last chapter, and now we fi-hi-hinally see why I gave it a teen rating (if there had just been swearing, it would have been K+). 33 and 34 are sorta-smut. Go figure.)

7: Heaven

Things were far from perfect in their new home. There were the ratsnakes, for example, that were useful for target practice but made the _creepiest_ noises at night. Also, the roof leaked. They didn't have much money for food, either, and jobs were hard to find. It got harder when they left Jet; as obsessed and shifty as he was, he just always knew what to do. She had always been short-tempered, and their new environment didn't lend easily to calm. Put simply, things were _hard._

But she just had to look in his eyes, and everything was all right.

79: Starvation

She had always been starved of love. Her parents had certainly never cared, and her sister- well, the idea of her sister loving her could still make her laugh, even so many years later. Jet never seemed to see the way she looked at him; it had only been a crush, but it had been her _first_, and it ached. But she accepted it after a while; he just never saw her as a girl, a common mistake.

But he always had, and around him, there was a hole inside that she never noticed anymore, not until he filled it.

87: Food

She had never known he was such an excellent cook. They didn't have much money for food, no, but he made the rice and whatever else had been cheap at market seem like cuisine fit for the king of the city. And he always did it so calmly, assessing what they had as he lit a small fire under a pot to boil the rice and made sure they would have some for tomorrow. She knew he could hunt well enough, since even she could do that, but the way he could make anything appetizing was a skill she envied.

75: Mirror

She had never really looked in a mirror before. When she was young, she had avoided it. Her reflection was a constant reminder of why she was the less-loved sister. And there had been no time for vanity in the treetops.

But now she found herself staring whenever she saw a smooth piece of glass, fussing with her hair, adjusting her kohl if it smeared. And she would only think it strange later. Perhaps it was instinct, to want to look good for him. And the way he smiled when he saw her was enough to cancel out the weirdness.

80: Words

He understood that words were pointless, even if he hadn't found out of his own volition. Even if he could speak, she doubted he'd be talkative; he was too grave for chatter, and he just didn't seem to have much he wanted to say.

And anyway, he could say anything he needed to without them: he could stop her with a gesture, chastise her with a look, tell her he loved her with a kiss. Everyone else would have done well to learn from him- "actions speak louder than words" was only a cliché because it was true, after all.

2: Love

Saying it was never that important. They knew it without words. A lingering look, a peaceful smile- they meant far more than sentiment ever could.

But even though she never noticed or cared, he did, and sometimes at night, while she slept beside him, it troubled him. He would mouth the words by her ear, but no sound ever came out, never would.

In other words, he envied her calm. The transition from allies to friends to more had been awkward and rocky and just plain _weird_ sometimes. But it never seemed to bothered her, so it never needed saying.

16: Questioning

They were alone in their new home now. While he didn't seem bothered, knowing he was only a few feet away and that there was nothing to hold them back like on the ferry made her shiver. Finally, she got up and walked over to his pallet; she was tired of waiting. "Longshot," she whispered, prodding him. He opened one eye. "I can't sleep." He blinked. It wasn't often he didn't understand. He started to get up, but she kissed him. He stared at her a moment, confused. She gently pressed him down again, answering the question in his eyes.

83: Heal

Both of them had scars. They weren't in unusual places, but both of them still felt the need to cover up, him with bandages, her with facepaint. That was why her fingers trembled when she undid the wrappings on his arms, why he shivered a little when he wiped her cheeks clean. They weren't undressed, but both of them felt naked without their protective layers.

After a moment, he kissed her, and she suppressed a slightly hysterical giggle; he'd never been shy about kissing her before. It _was_ awkward, seeing each other so raw, but that was how you healed.

33: Expectations

It was much different than described in stories. Perhaps it was because neither of them were really positive of what they were doing, leading purely by instinct and the taste of each other. There wasn't anything overly romantic about it, either; there was kissing and touching, but really, it wasn't that appealing. It was hot and sweaty and awkward, and kissing could only take you so far. It just wasn't that great.

She kept on thinking that until something suddenly clicked, and then she was hoarsely crying his name into his neck, finally understanding what all the fuss was about.

34: Stars

There were stars in her touch, in her fingertips trailed over his back, his chest, his arms; every gentle brush made him shiver. Her kisses were sunlight, lips meeting his own, his cheek, the hollow of his throat. Herself, she was the moon, a quiet beauty that was strong enough to control the tides.

It was strange and wonderful and horribly confusing all at once. She _had_ to be some kind of magical; how else could she make him feel this way? His fingers squeezed her hands, the sheets, the curve of her back, watching as galaxies unfolded before him.

62: Magic

They had a quiet sort of magic. It wasn't flashy and impressive, like bending, but it was powerful in its own way; it kept two people tied together so tight that eventually they couldn't imagine a life without the other always around. They had a few false starts, a few strange incidents, but she had never heard of anyone born knowing how to bend the elements or tell fortunes. And at the end of it all, they worked; they knew how to handle each other, knew what they did and didn't need to do or say. They were strong together.

8: Innocence

He wasn't naïve, he wasn't idealistic, and he wasn't stupid. But he didn't seem to know the simplest things, like why she got cross once a month, and why she got even more upset one month when she didn't.

"I think we're in trouble," she said, when she'd finished throwing up. He'd looked at her, confused. "I… um…" It was hard to speak the words; their edge was worse than any dagger's. She finally mumbled it. He gaped a moment, then pulled her close. He saw it simpler- there was just her, himself, and now a third. She envied that.

59: No Way Out

To her, this all meant entrapment, being stuck with someone for the rest of your life. It meant never having time to yourself, being exposed, becoming "we". She had seen many failed relationships in her village.

And sex and… well, what may or may not have happened were all of a piece with marriage, weren't they?

Except that they didn't entail love, and she did love him. The quiet joy she felt when he opened his eyes and gave her a slow, sweet smile proved it. Maybe if you chose your cage, it wasn't a cage, it was a home.

(Ending it with 59 makes this fic rather fatalistic, but… eh… best I could do. None of the others made sense. This is your last chance to review, you know.)


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